


Brother Benedictus's Diary

by flurblewig



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flurblewig/pseuds/flurblewig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>They'd been careful with most of the shipment; some books, Xander had learned to his cost, needed special handling. So the grimoires and the books of shadows they'd tiptoed around - been respectful, said words of protection over, even dusted - and it had all gone off without a hitch. Hah. Famous last words. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother Benedictus's Diary

They'd been careful with most of the shipment; some books, Xander had learned to his cost, needed special handling. So the grimoires and the books of shadows they'd tiptoed around - been respectful, said words of protection over, even dusted - and it had all gone off without a hitch.

Hah. Famous last words.

But it was a diary, for heaven's sake. A diary. A plain old notebook, just the random thoughts of some old, long-dead monk. How interesting a life could a monk have led, anyway? Surely they went without all the really good stuff by definition?

It wasn't like Giles had even been trying to read the damn thing. Whatever stupid secrets the monk had, he was welcome to them. He was just cataloguing, for heaven's sake. Glancing at enough pages to work out what it was and whether it was likely to be useful, and then moving on to the next one. Except, of course, that this time he hadn't. Hadn't because he couldn't see.

That was the blind part. The deaf and dumb followed pretty soon after. And then the Xander-running-round-the-room-like-a-headless-chicken part straight after that.

His first instinct was to run to the phone; to call in the cavalry. But of course, when it came to dealing with weird-ass curses written in some kind of hieroglyphics, Giles _was_ the cavalry.

Defaulting to plan B didn't help much; Willow was in bed with the flu and her mother flatly refused to wake her. Plan C - Buffy - just produced a unanswered cellphone but Plan D - Dawn - finally started to produce results.

"Photocopy it," she said.

"What?"

"The curse. If it's set to attack anyone who reads the book itself, then you should be okay if you just photocopy the page with the symbols on. Just don't look at the book while you're doing it."

"Dawn? Have I told you that you're a genius?"

"Hah. Not enough, Xander, not enough. Now go copy, and - and - I don't know, keep him warm or something, and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I'm on it."

The glass of Scotch that he brought was received with better grace than the blanket, but Xander supposed that was okay. It would keep his insides warm, wouldn't it?

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, feeling helpless. "Just - stay there." He gripped Giles' shoulder, hoping somehow to convey the gist of what he'd said by touch, and ran.  
He approached the machine in the shop with trepidation, but there were no bangs, flashes or electrical meltdowns. Guess ancient monks didn't future-proof their curses too well.

He flew back to Giles' at full speed, arriving a second or two before Dawn.

"Did it work?" she asked.

"Yeah. You were right. We're on."

"Good. Show me."

He handed her the sheet of paper.

"Okay, let's have a look at what we've got. Well they're not hieroglyphics, I can see that. Definitely not Egyptian. Looks more like - Sumerian I'd say."

"Are you sure? Is that good? Bad? What does it mean, Dawn?"

"I'm pretty sure. But I don't know what it means. Sumerian is a tricky language, it takes years to really understand."

"Then we're screwed."

"Not necessarily. I know this girl online, she runs a Sumerian journal. It's like the coolest site on the net. I'll scan this and email it to her. She'll help, I'm sure."

"Okay, good. Ring me as soon as you know something."

She set off, leaving Xander alone again with Giles. And the silence.

So then there was really nothing much to do except wait. Giles sat stiffly on the couch, sightless eyes staring straight ahead. Xander paced fretfully up and down the room, glaring balefully at the phone. He hated seeing Giles like this. Helpless. It wasn't right.

"I know you can't hear me," he said, "so I guess I'm really just doing this to make myself feel better, but - we'll fix this. I know it seems like a really way-out thing to say but I think Dawn knows what she's talking about. There's bound to be a solution to this - a nice, simple solution that doesn't involve blood or sacrifice or anything like that, and Dawn will find it. Or if she can't, then once Willow's awake she will. Or, if it comes to that, Buffy will just kick the ass of every creature that walks, flies or crawls until we find someone who _will_ fix this. So don't worry, big guy. We know you're in there and we're gonna get you out just as soon as we can."

He took a deep breath. Yeah, that had made him feel better. What was it that Anya's self-help books always said? If you want something to be, act as if it already is. Confidence was the key. You had to believe it.

Okay, he could do that. He might not have much in the way of superpowers, but he could believe. Believe in Giles. Believe in his own determination to help Giles. Oh yeah, he could do that.

"We won't let you down," he said. "We won't let anything happen to you. _I_ won't let anything happen to you."

_He can't hear you_, he told himself. _Yeah,_ himself said right back. _So, here's your chance_.

_Huh? Chance for what?_

Don't be dumb. To tell him.

Tell him what?

The truth, idiot. How you really -

\- feel about him.

Now you get it. Yeah. Get it off your chest. Maybe then you can start getting over it. Move on.

So it'd be like therapy.

You've been reading too many of those daft books. But yeah, just like that.

Even if it was his own idea, he had to admit it was a semi-decent one. Maybe then he'd finally be able to let it go. To stop the dreams and the fantasies and the painful, pointless longings. In a way he almost didn't want to move on - he'd loved this man for so long, it'd become part of who he _was_ \- but he understood that it wasn't healthy. He had a relationship - a committed relationship - with Anya. He should be focussing on that, not on this madness. So yeah, moving on was good.

"Again with the knowing you can't hear me," he said, "but trust me, that's for the best this time. You wouldn't really want to hear this. I'm saying this for me, not you."

Deep breath.

"So, Giles. The thing is, I - well, I love you."

He stopped again, and swallowed hard. _Giles, I love you_. How many times had he imagined saying those words? And in all the scenarios he'd envisaged, it hadn't gone anything like this.

"I mean, I love all of you guys. Will, Buffy, Dawn - of course I do. But I don't mean it like that. Don't mean it as a friend. I love you like - like - " he paused. If this had been Buffy he was talking to - and it could have been, very early on in his fantasy career - this part would have been easy. _I love you like a man loves a woman_. He'd seen enough tv movies to know that one was the gold standard in romantic confessions. But it wasn't Buffy, it was Giles, and what did he say now? The movies didn't really cover this scenario. I love you like a man loves a man didn't seem to cut it, somehow.

"I love you like I've never loved anyone. Not Buffy, not Willow, not even Anya - and I do love her, I really do. As much as I can. But you see, that's the problem. I can't give her all my heart, because so much of it has always belonged to you. I love you like I love life - not always wisely and not always well, but for keeps. I can't help it, Giles. I've tried, I really have. I know it's stupid, that's the thing. There's never going to be a fairytale ending where you look into my eyes and see my soul. You're never going to grab me and kiss me and tell me you love me like a man loves a man."

He had to stop again then, because something was choking him. Was he laughing or crying? He honestly couldn't have said. Maybe both.

"So I'm trying to let it go, Giles. Trying to let _you_ go. But I don't know if I can do it. I want you. I want you so much that it hurts, but it's part of me. You're part of me. I don't know who I am if I'm not the guy who's in love with you."

There was a sudden noise, and he jumped almost half out of his skin before he realised it was the phone.

And then he realised something else; Giles had jumped too, and what was wrong with that picture?

He moved to the phone like a man in a dream. Maybe he was. Maybe this was just a nightmare.

He looked down at himself. Nope, still clothed. Not a nightmare, then.

"Xander? Xander, you there?"

"Yes, I'm here. Sorry."

"I emailed that girl, you know the one I mentioned? She was brilliant. Turns out she knows someone else who had this happen to them. Apparently it was quite the thing for that Order to booby trap their diaries. It's quite a cool idea, if you think about it. Better than just a lock, or hiding it in your sock drawer or something, and -"

"Dawn."

"Huh? What?"

"Giles, Dawn. The booby trap. The curse. What did you find out? Is there a way to reverse it?"

"No."

Oh god. Giles. Deaf, dumb and blind forever. He would never be able to live like that, never.

"But," she continued, "it doesn't matter -"

"Are you mad? It doesn't matter? This is Giles we're talking about here, Giles. Remember him? The man who needs books like we need air? How can you say it doesn't matter?"

"It doesn't matter, Xander, if you'd let me finish, because the spell has a built-in lifespan. It's just meant to be a scare, that's all. It's not designed to do any permanent damage."

"You mean - it just wears off?"

"Yep."

"How - how long does it take? When will it start to wear off?"

"How long since he first opened the book?"

"About - two hours?"

"Then it should be wearing off - um, let's see - about ten minutes ago."

Ten minutes ago. Which would be right around - hmm, probably _I love you like I've never loved anyone_.

Xander nodded. "Okay. That's great. Thank you, Dawn. It's been nice knowing you, okay? Say goodbye to Buffy for me."

He hung up, and turned to face Giles, who was looking - yes, looking - directly at him.

Well. That was that, then. Guess it had to happen sooner or later. You couldn't expect to survive every end of the world, could you? At least he'd had a good run.

Giles drew in a breath. "You stupid, stupid boy," he said.

Xander cringed. The one thing he'd always hoped was that when the end came, it wouldn't be painful. So much for that hope, then.

He turned, blindly, and began to stumble towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going, Xander?"

"Away." That was all he had. Away. Somewhere else. Not in the same room as Giles. Not in the same continent, if he could help it.

"Come back here."

Oh, please. Couldn't this just be over?

"I made a mistake, Giles. I'm sorry."

"You did, and you will be."

"Giles, I -"

And then his words were cut off. By Giles' mouth. Giles' lips, pressing down on his. His mouth opened, in shock as much as anything else, and a warm, insistent tongue slipped inside. The kiss was long and dizzying, and when he was finally released - from lips but not from arms - he found himself staring into gentle eyes.

Xander decided that he must have suffered a stress-induced heart attack, and was hallucinating in his final, oxygen-starved moments.

"You should have told me," hallucino-Giles said.

"Hng?"

"You should have told me how you felt before. We've wasted an awful lot of time, Xander."

"You mean - you don't mean - "

"I mean that I love you, you ridiculous, insufferable boy. And yes, just like a man loves a man."

And then Xander found himself folded back into that soft, enclosing embrace. He'd slipped away, obviously; his poor heart had given up the fight and now his spirit was leaving his dead body on the floor and entering some wonderful, you've-been-a-good-Scooby afterlife.

He kissed Giles back, fiercely, and hoped that no-one ever tried to resuscitate him.

 

-end-


End file.
